


Man's Best Friend

by Kittie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gabriel has PTSD, I mostly wrote this for myself, I sobbed writing this, Interruptions by Man's Best Friend, Jack Morrison gets a Service Dog, Jack has PTSD, M/M, Slice of Life snipets, Small smut scene, This fic is super emotional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittie/pseuds/Kittie
Summary: “I’m going to recommend a service dog,” He says, scribbling a note on the side column, “Your anti-depressants are working as they should but your anxiety levels seem to be ramping up regardless of the medication we cycle through. Dogs have been shown to help with… I’ll cut the jargon, dogs can make people happy and stable which is exactly what you want and need. I can recommend a trainer that works with vetted temperament tested rescues if that's acceptable.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the SD fic I've been dying to write. There's a few things to mention before I let you read this.
> 
> *Jack has PTSD, his mostly centers in paranoia and panic attacks.  
> *Gabe has anger management issues that he's working through because of undiagnosed PTSD, but Jack knows he has it  
> *I am a service dog handler but every team is different. I try to give an accurate representation of what I have done with my dog with friends or in public  
> *The service dog is based on my own dog, I'm only familiar with his trained cues so that's what I based him off of.  
> *Psych-SD's are a thing not to be confused with ESAs, which don't have the same rights as SDs
> 
> This will be in two parts. Avoid the second chapter is dog death bothers you. I sobbed while writing it and it was okay for me. I'd lost my first dog a year ago and it felt cathartic to write down and work through my grief. Do not put yourself through it if you know you will not handle it well. Please. 
> 
> And on with the fic!

“I’m going to recommend a service dog,” He says, scribbling a note on the side column, “Your anti-depressants are working as they should but your anxiety levels seem to be ramping up regardless of the medication we cycle through. Dogs have been shown to help with… I’ll cut the jargon, dogs can make people happy and stable which is exactly what you want and need. I can recommend a trainer that works with vetted temperament tested rescues if that's acceptable.”

The rest of what his therapist says leaves him feeling stilted. He swallows the lump that catches in his throat multiple times before the slick feeling disappears. He accepts the paper, walking out of the room a moment later. He goes through the motions of meeting Gabriel in the waiting room office and sitting next to him. He feels off balance, confused. A hand lands on his own and his everything speaks. It’s a mess of words. They mean nothing.

“A service dog,” Jack fumbles with the words, “He says a dog would be good for me.” The idea is silly. Surely having a service dog would make him look incompetent? He’s a grown man who fought in the Omnic Crisis. He’s above this.

“Well, you’ve always wanted a dog?”

“I wanted a naked cat, actually.”

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Seems like a good idea. Your…” Gabe looks for the word and can’t find a good one, “Ana is worried, you zone pretty hard. Maybe this is a good idea? We can talk after my session, okay? Just breathe, go play with the legos and I’ll be out in an hour.”

Jack wonders how Gabriel can be so calm about adding another addition to their one bedroom flat. He needs a house with a backyard for a dog. He needs… a lot. The idea makes him feel light headed. Thoughts roll like waves against the waves: constant and unyielding. He doesn’t realize he’s been sitting there for as long as he has until Gabriel taps him on the shoulder.

“Time to go home, Jackie.”

 

* * *

 

The car ride is uneventful.

“More anger management. They say my fuse is getting shorter because of… everything. When my control is shot, everyone suffers around me.” Gabriel’s voice is a balm to his aching mind, raw from the once a month mental breakdown in that office.

“I feel.” Morrison replied without missing a beat. The paper in his hands feels like a slab of concrete. At least Gabe can leave anger management and not take the class home with him. Jack is going to have a dog that does everything with him.

Jesus, is he going to have to piss with a dog next to him now?

“Yeah, it’s shit. But I’m excited about getting a dog. Could be fun. You used to talk about after the war how we’d do things like a normal couple. We’d get a house, fenced with a yard. Maybe adopt a few kids. A dog. You wanted Danes right?” Jack’s brows raise as he gives Gabriel a look. How the fuck did he even remember Jack’s scared shitless prattle?

“Wow, memory much?” A snort slips through and Jack can see Gabe grinning, “Maybe… maybe this is a push in the right direction. A house means permanent living space… it means we’re settling. We’re not going to be fighting forever.” Jack has a problem is object permanence when it comes to himself. He’s level-headed, outspoken, but he’s never quite felt right in social situations. He’s never felt like he belonged until Gabriel came into his life and by God is he scared to lose him. He’s lost everything, he can’t afford to have his boyfriend go. He keeps him at arm’s length so when he does leave, it won’t hurt so much.

“Hey, we get a house together and I’ve trapped that ass of yours, Morrison. My mother will be so excited. She’s been bitching for years that I haven’t put a ‘taken by Gabriel Reyes’ on your hand yet.”

Jack blinks before cracking, his mouth splits as a peel of laughter worms it’s way out. It’s such a strange sound to hear come from himself. It’s been a while since he’s laughed like this.

“Guess that means you have to marry me now, Reyes.”

“Oh no, what a tragedy. I’m going to have to make an honest man out of the blond farmer boy I fell in love with. What a disaster. It’s almost as if that was end game anyway.”

The conversation putters out with Jack and Gabe making marriage digs at one another. The doesn’t stop them from heading to a courthouse to sign papers, Ana driving to meet them after Jack texts her the destination of their nuptials.

 

* * *

 

They buy a house. It’s two stories, large yard for their future four-legged companion and any kids they might end up adopting. Four bedrooms, open bottom floor plan; Jack is a little dizzy coming to terms with the situation. He thought Gabriel would have run like hell at the idea of roots but instead, he takes a room to set up his guitars and sewing machine. Gabe nests like he never thought the man could. Pictures are hung, furniture moved in, and then curtains are officially finished.

Jack stands in the living room after it’s all put together and can’t breathe. The walls feel like they’re closing in on him even when he realistically knows they aren’t. He feels trapped and suffocated in a way he can’t name. The feeling doesn’t let up until Gabriel talks to him, whispers in his ear and warns him he’s going to touch Jack. His husband nods, numbly, as Gabe wraps Jack in a hug and lowers him to the floor. They sit like that for what feels like hours, Reyes massaging Morrison’s fingers until they tingle like a slowly awakening limb.

“I think the dog is a good idea. I don’t know how long you… zoned out but a dog could tell me when you’re not good. Hell, might sense it before I can. I think I’m going to look into it. No, we’re going to. I’ll hook the laptop up to the TV and we'll watch some videos.” His husband rubs any skin he can touch until Jack understands and agrees through verbal confirmation. Gabriel doesn’t need an apology, he just needs Jack to smile and understand he’s not alone.

Jack agrees after the fourth video. A veteran shows his dog off. It’s a giant shepherd mix of some sort, fluffy as sin and performs his tasks to a ‘t’. He climbs on the Soldier when he gets a flashback, he licks his handler’s hands when he thinks his person is about to have a problem, and he fetches the soldier’s husband when his ability to level his person becomes too much.

 

* * *

 

His name is Loke, like the Norse guy. Too pretentious for an I or not to get confused with that one Marvel character, Jack isn’t sure. The paperwork says flat coated retriever mix. The dog is a medium size, all black with a splotch on his chest of white. It’s cute. Not as cute as his one white toe with matching claw.

“Loke?”

“Yup,” The trainer responds with a pop on the p. She doesn’t look terribly thrilled to be leaving the dog with him. He’s not going to fault her, he’s terrified at the prospect of being personally responsible for a living creature. He could barely keep his Betta alive for more than a year. How is he supposed to take care of a dog? “He’s a good dog. If you take him out with you he has a vest, a mouth harness— it doesn’t do anything but people that are afraid of dogs like to see it. Uh, there are more instructions for care on the sheet along with behaviors. Usually, with service, dogs we like to train the handler to know cues but with his training and your schedule, we did the best we could with little notice and a dog already trained.”

He doesn’t miss the way she words the dog being like a prescription for him, she doesn’t seem pleased. He orders it and picks it up as his therapist recommended. He wonders if his distaste shows on his face when she clears his throat.

“Look, if you’ve got questions feel free to text me. If you take videos or pictures, absolutely send them to me. He doesn’t bark but he snores. He’s kennel trained but likes to sleep in the bed. Under no circumstance do you put a bed in the kennel unless you like picking up stuffing. He’s extremely smart but knows you come first every time.”

Jack feels overwhelmed as he nods. He towers over this tiny woman and her dog. He shouldn’t feel the sweat of his palms making it hard to grip the pen as he signs the paperwork.

“I’ll give you a run down of cues. Be patient, it’ll take a month for him to get acclimated to living with you. If you decide you don’t want him anymore, I’ll take him back.” She pets the top of his head, “But... he’s been abandoned too many times, pulled from an abusive household and passed his tests to get here to make sure you don’t feel like he did at 12 weeks.”

Oh, she’s good at playing the guilt card. He’s almost impressed when he slides the paperwork back to her.

“Don’t ever think he doesn’t know what you’re going through because he does… In spades.”

 

* * *

 

But his dog isn’t a fluffy shepherd. He’s soft, breath smells slightly, and the dog keeps bringing him balls. A lot of balls.

“I think the dog is gay,” Jack says to no one in particular. Gabe sticks his head out of the kitchen in an apron that says “Kiss the cook’s ass”. “All he does is bring me balls and fusses at me when I don’t mess with them.”

“Wow, someone that wants to play with your balls, Morrison? Must be gay.”

They share a look and laugh. The dog whines again, stepping back and forth with another ball. His brown eyes plead with him to play. Jack is weak to brown eyes giving him looks, in general, so he sighs and throws the ball as a result.

The dog is off and Morrison feels something warm in his chest. Love? No. Affection? Definitely somewhere in his constricted heart.

 

* * *

 

The dog snores.

A deep rumble that vibrates the entire cage it— he sleeps in. God, he thought Gabriel had a loud mouth but this was an entirely different level of obnoxious. Soft wheezing, crate shaking, and every worse still we’re the soft whimpers. Jack can’t tell if it’s traumatic or fun, is he chasing squirrels or dodging landmines in some desert biome?

“I can’t fucking sleep.” A voice pulls him from his head, brown eyes squinting at him in the dark. Jack would find it amusing if he weren’t in complete and total agreement.

“Same,” Jack starts, a sigh tumbling from his mouth. Gabe pushes himself onto his elbows and really gives his lover a look over. Once bright blues are dull, the bags under his eyes could be LV neverfulls, and his skin looks pale. Brown eyes shut and open once more, Jack just stares back, “I hate the dog.”

“Fuck, me too. Can we give it back?”

There’s a pause before Jack shakes his head. He rolls out of bed and pads over to the poor mutt. The collar is army camo, the tag looks eerie similar to the pair he wears around his own neck. The snoring has stopped, the shifting of floorboards must have woken the mutt up.

“Just this once I’m letting you in the bed. Just once.”

Oh, what lies a man will tell himself.

The dog takes over the bed. Loke doesn’t curl like Jack expects him too— that would be way too easy to sleep around. Instead, he lays with legs straight out and pushing his body into Jack’s back forcing him to turn and curl against Gabriel’s back. It’s not uncomfortable to be wedged between them. It’s actually quite the opposite, he feels safe trapped between them.

They had dabbled in bondage before, letting Jack find a safe space in his head where his troubles and worries don’t exist. Jack doesn’t have to be a leader, he can just exist and feel. The relief the weight of the dog brings in more innocent, however. It’s safe like coming home to hot Cocoa after trudging through a blizzard.

Jack smiles into Gabe’s neck and wriggles to make himself comfortable. Sleep comes so easily...

The dog snores and they both laugh.

“Takes after his papí.” Jack mumbles, too exhausted to let even the dog’s snoring get the best of him.

“Fuck off, at least I don’t drool.”

A good point could have been made if Jack wasn’t already asleep.

 

* * *

 

Jack is upset and reasonably so. An Operation went sour and now he’s signing off on cards for the families affected. Disappointment in himself ramps up, fingers refusing to shake as he curves the M of his signature. He deserves to be strong for the families that won’t have their sons and daughters coming home. He needs to be more than a person.

Something wet touches his hand. Slimy and Jack is startled, so far in his own head he’s missed the dog that’s followed him all day today. Loke’s tongue licks his hand again, big brown eyes looking at him so pointedly he feels foolish for fretting over the curvature of an M. 

“Hello.” Jack states and the dog cocks his head. There’s a soft sound that alerts him to something. He can’t remember what that means. Morrison shuffled around for the tasks and warnings page that came with Loke’s adoption.

‘ _Whining means something simple: I need to go potty. Take me outside without the next five minutes or find a trail of pee when I walk_.’ 

Jack blinks and rereads the line. Right. Walk the dog, he can do that. Jack clips the lead on the dog's collar and takes a private elevator down to the lowest floor, dodging everyone he can with his medical equipment. It feels weird to refer to a dog as such but… that’s what he is. He’s at work, he’s not a social companion. He’s here to make sure the functions at his highest possible efficiency. 

When outside, Loke pisses a least six times nowhere near trees and, therefore, forces Jack into the sun where he can feel the heat on his skin after a long day shut inside in front of computers and paperwork. It’s… nice. He doesn’t realize how long he stands there looking at the sky, the way the clouds slide across the horizon before Loke nudges the back of his knee. He wants Jack to walk. 

“Where to, buddy?” 

Loke nudges him to a sidewalk. A long walk it is.

 

* * *

 

 Jack’s quality of life increases tenfold. The dog is his constant companion when Gabe is off on an op, making sure the bed isn’t cold and empty. He’s a constant weight, a friend, and a source of affection when he needs it.

Gabe becomes used to being the third wheel in their bed. It’s a joke shared between them. Loke lays between them pushing his parents to either edge of the bed. They don’t hold each other as much as they used to unless they’re desperate or one is angling.

He doesn’t hate that as much as he hates when Gabriel pulls off his dick, mouth wet with a mixture of spit and semen. Jack is hard enough that his cock is a shade of purple. He’s been so good in Gabriel’s absence, he deserves to get off. He needs to get off.

“The dog is watching.”

“Ignore the fucking dog, Reyes, and blow me.” Jack’s hips jerk off the bed and he whines. It’s pathetic but Christ he hasn’t gotten laid in weeks and his balls ache.

“I can’t. He’s on my legs. Jack. I can’t do this.” Gabriel tries to shift but the deflating sound of Loke’s breath makes Jack pause. Oh, God. There’s a dog in the bed they’re fucking in, laying across Gabe’s calves. Mortification causes the blond to flush, hands covering his face trying to hide the visual away from him.

“Get him out and then fuck me. I’m getting laid tonight, I don’t fucking care what it takes.” Gabe complies with a grumble, annoyed at the situation but his dick wins out. Loke doesn’t seem terribly pleased to be shoved out of the room when he was comfortable on the bed.

Gabe shuts the dog out and slides his mouth back on Jack’s leaking cock. His husband cums within five minutes, grabbing Gabriel’s head and nearly choking his husband with his dick. It feels amazing. The comedown, the slow descent of a high that is broken by the sound of whining and scratching at the door.

They both look at one another before sighing.

“Sorry, baby.” Jack apologizes while pulling on his boxers. Gabe has a nice tent that his mouth waters to have.

“Don’t. It’s fine. Your mental health is worth more than my large, aching libido.”

Jack loves this man with every fiber of his being. He ends up sneaking Gabe into the bathroom and blowing him, old-fashioned. It makes it seem more intense, like a quick fling in a seedy bar with the lights off.

Maybe not fucking in the bed could reignite the spontaneity in their love life that seems to have tapered with age.

 

* * *

 

“Your vitals are much better than they were a year ago, Commander.” Angela states while reading numbers that mean absolutely nothing to him. Loke is sitting next to him in a chair, head on his knee as he watches the both of them converse.

“I guess.” Jack shrugs, putting a hand on Loke’s head to pet. He’s warm and solid beneath his palm. He hadn’t even realized his chest felt tight until his breathing became looser and less like a task to do to live.

“Loke does a lot of good for you, I suggest giving him a medal of honor for his work in keeping Overwatch, and you, running.” She smiles and Jack pats his dog’s head. His lips fight the urge to smile, something he has done a lot of lately.

Loke deserved so much more than just a medal. Jack would give him the world if he could.

 

* * *

 

On his lowest days, Jack can look into those big brown eyes as Loke sits on his lap and hear him say, ‘ _I’m so proud of you today. You got up and didn’t let **it** stop you._ ’ He cries, face shoved into the dog’s soft neck where the fluff of his saddle meets the shorter fur. He doesn’t feel judged for letting it out, he just feels at peace being able to be himself. Only Gabriel gives him this feeling but with his near constant absence… it’s nice to get it from elsewhere at not rely on one person to be your everything.  

Gabriel doesn’t deserve to be stressed out with Jack’s problems. He stops talking to him about them. Gabe repays the favor in kind by stop talking to him unless words are thrown at his face during an argument.

It’ll get better, he thinks, it has to.

 

* * *

 

“I love you,” He says on a particularly bad day. Loke doesn’t answer with words but he brings his favorite toys. There’s a stuffed animal and four balls of varying sizes on his lap as the dog finds everything it can to help him. Jack hasn’t the energy for much more than looking at him but his dog doesn’t want to play. He’s concerned with no one to alert. Ana’s out of the country and Gabriel walked out last night after a particularly nasty fight.

“I know you can’t understand me but thank you.” Jack’s eyes burn and Loke seems more distressed, climbing into his lap and licking his face. Jack cries. He cries for his failing relationship and strained friendship with Ana. He cries over the media and their slander. He cries over this job he doesn’t want anymore but keeps because he feels obligated to. He cries over his life and every regret he’s ever had. He cries over a husband that doesn’t want him anymore. He cries for everything he’s lost and will never get back.

When he calms, everything feels better. Lighter. A weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. Loke leans against him like an immovable weight. He loves this dog so much, he can’t even remember how he lived his life without him.

“Thank you.” He says, hand petting him with a soft stroke. His voice is weak but his resolve is stronger than ever to fix the wrongs going on in his life rather than letting them to him.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel comes home one night and it’s rough. He’s yelling, loud and shaking like he can’t pull himself from the firefight and the control of command. Jack knows the feeling well but stays out of his way for the sake of his own sanity, he’s never been good at handling these episodes.

Loke, however, doesn’t bat a lash as he walks up to Gabriel while he’s having a fit.

“God damn fucking--” Gabe pauses in his ranting. He doesn’t hear anything except for a drop, a heavy groan as bodies hit the floor. Jack peaks around the corner, his own heart pounding in his chest where fear resides. He doesn’t think Gabriel would hurt Loke, never. He’s just not sure what his dog is doing.

He finds the image refreshing. Gabriel laying on his back on the floor while Loke lays on his stomach. His husband has his eyes shut while hands curl around the dog. The canine looks like a large teddy bear in Gabe’s grasp and if the moment weren’t so private, he’d have taken a picture.

There’s nothing to say, here. All Jack can do is walk over to Gabe and try to slip his legs under his lover’s head and pet him to ease the controlling anger. PTSD affects everyone differently but some methods of treatment were roughly the same.

_Love and patience._

After that, Loke keeps adding people to his flock to protect and serve.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha throws the ball and Loke chases after it. Not as fast as he used to but the dog is approaching eight. Jack watches his best friend’s daughter play with his dog while Ana talks about her schooling. He doesn’t concentrate on the words, perfecting the art of smiling and nodding at the right times.

Ana’s daughter has been so stressed lately. She and her mother have been fighting nearly as often as Gabriel and himself. A hand cards through his hair, shaking the blond turning white hair. It used to soothe his frazzled mind. Now he isn’t sure what it does anymore beyond giving him something to ground his body with.

Hours pass without much fanfare when the conversation dies from lack of input. Fareeha lays on the grass and Loke lays next to her, letting her pet him as he naps in the slowly setting sun. He takes a picture with his phone before waking her up to announce her mother finished making dinner.

Loke gets up with a struggle. Jack picks him up and carries him instead to put him on a bed Ana put in her house just for him.

 

* * *

 

When McCree loses his arm, they’re all at a loss. What do they do? What do they say? Jesse McCree has been akin to his and Gabriel’s only child for years. He feels grief so all-encompassing that even Loke can’t seem to shake him from his head. There’s only so many times Gabriel can be pulled from his work to help his husband and, honestly, Jack doesn’t want it. He wants the closest thing he has to a son, well.

A hospital visit is easy enough, he has clearance to all levels.

Loke pads next to him, claws clicking on the tile of the med bay. Jack keeps a strong face that falters when he sees the husk of Jesse McCree on that bed. A low whine leaves Loke’s mouth as he pads forward to jump on the bed.

“Heya, boy,” McCree said, voice tired. He’s in pain but the morphine in his system should help the shock of it all.

“He missed you. You never come by to throws balls anymore.” Jack cracks a joke but it falls flat. Jesse lost his throwing arm and Morrison feels like an asshole the moment the words fall from his mouth.

“I know I need to. Think you can handle my shitty left throwing, bud?” Jesse pets Loke like his life depends on it. There are unshed tears in his eyes as Jack crowds the bed, putting a hand on McCree’s uninjured shoulder.

“You did good, kid. I’m proud of you.” Jack states without much room for rebuttal. McCree looks up from Loke.

“Can I keep him for a little bit?” McCree’s voice wavers and Jack doesn’t have the heart to tell him no.

_Don’t share your service dog_ , the paper read, _he’s for you and you alone. Watching over too many people can become stressful, especially after long periods of time._

Jack ignores the warning just to see McCree smile again.

“Sure, I’ll be right here working if either of you need me.” He picks up the dog, moves the blankets around to make it easier on Loke’s aging bones. He dog puts his head on McCree’s lap as Jack undoes his harnesses to let his adoptive son enjoy the full benefit of the dog without Loke’s restrictions to him in uniform.

The dog doesn’t move, he sleeps. McCree sleeps. Jack doesn’t look up until the door slides open and Gabriel stands in the threshold.

“You shouldn’t let Loke do that.” He whispers but there’s a pain in his voice and Jack scoots over in the chair so Gabe can take a seat. Hands moving to squeeze his thigh in an act of quiet intamcy they haven't shared in months. When was the last time Jack touched Gabe that wasn't between the sheets?

“I know but it felt right to.”

They sit in silence, the only sound is Loke’s soft before and Jack’s fingers tapping on his work pad.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If dog death bothers you PLEASE DON'T READ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance if there are mistakes. I wanted to fluff this out more but I keep crying every time I try to edit/write more scenes so for my sanity, I'm stopping. This is a final warning that a dog dies in this fic and that by continuing on, you recognize this. If animal death is triggering or can make you upset, please don't read.
> 
> Thank you for all the support.

Loke is ten when he retires. His muzzle has gone gray to match Jack’s white. He prefers to sleep and doesn’t perform his tasks as well as he used to without much effort. The aches in his joints have to be medicated two times a day. The energy level of his spitfire is nonexistent. He’s lived a good life, has been loved the whole time in service. He’s old now, Jack never took another service dog to ease him out of the life like it was recommended.

Jack sends him to Fareeha, who wanted has wanted a dog for years. She’s offered to take the dog if Jack ever needed him retired. They had a bond, he wasn’t going to sever it. Another sheep of Loke’s flock, how many agents did he watch over? McCree, Fareeha, Gabriel… the list went on.

Jack would have kept him but something wasn’t right. Everything around him was burning. He was moving out of his home for a one bedroom apartment. He hasn’t seen Gabriel in three months but the nagging idea of a divorce keeps him awake at night.

He misses Loke but refuses to cry over him. He’s better off in a stable home and allowed to sleep all day without worrying about his owner.

It’s not as if Jack never sees him anymore, he just doesn’t seem him as often.

 

* * *

 

McCree leaves Overwatch and Jack knew it was coming before Gabriel did, the resignation notice hit his desk before his husband’s. He feels like he betrayed a man that will barely talk to him. There’s no dog to ease the sting when Gabriel throws angry words at him. He doesn’t realize how much he’s relied on Loke until just then, sitting at his desk with a glass of whiskey wishing his life was different.

 

* * *

 

He should have retired when he was given the option.

Zürich blows up.

Jack watches his funeral on a vid screen for no other reason than it being the only thing on. His recovery leaves him in a sorry state.

There’s a lot of crying, his statue is put up above his grave in Arlington instead of keeping it over the rubble of a dead ideal. It doesn’t fit there, he thinks, he overshadows Gabriel’s own plain grave.

He misses the one thing in the crowd he can see. Loke stands next to Fareeha, he’s dressed in his Overwatch styled service uniform Gabriel made years ago when Jack bitched about not finding the right vest for his boy. It looks a little tight but his baby has gained a little weight from inactivity and living in a household that didn’t need him to work so much. Loke looks resigned, the cameras on to him as Ana’s daughter walks him to the grave site. Jack has to physically remind himself to breathe when Loke sniffs his grave and the one next to it. It must smell like them with all the objects placed on it. His coat is there for the moment, to be moved to a museum at a later date. Gabriel’s original Strike Commander outfit is on display. They don’t have bodies to bury so they bury their images.

Loke lays between them. The old dog takes his spot as he would when they would share a bed together. Loke’s head on Jack’s back and his hind legs on Gabriel being the connection they needed when their communication wasn’t the best. Unfortunately, he doesn’t move again.

He’ll never forget the sound of his heart breaking for a dog that gave his life for him.

Jack cries, a gaping agony in his chest that he knows will never close again. His dog didn’t deserve to die without him. He deserved better than a broken shell of a man that took everything, including his life. He should have said goodbye, he shouldn’t have left Loke with Fareeha.

A lot of what ifs but Jack knows he did the right thing. Loke would have been dead when the building blew, if not. He can’t regret this. He refuses to.

Loke lived a good life with him and had a wonderful retirement when Overwatch became too much for his life.

 

* * *

 

 The next time Jack goes to Arlington to visit Gabriel’s grave, there’s a tiny statue of a medium sized dog with legs too long and lanky that lays between them. He has his vest on, gazing at all that pass him with the slight smile his muzzle curved into when he was happy.

He pets the statue between the ears. He misses the soft feel of fur and the whining when he didn’t get his way, he keeps thinking Loke will bring him a ball when he’s upset. There’s no ball, there’s no barking, or whining. The wind blows and the trees rustle. It’s quiet, peaceful. Jack puts a plastic ball on the grave, a remembrance for his best friend.

“I’ll make them pay. I promise you that, buddy. For you and Gabe, they’ll pay.”

Around his neck are three dog tags, they clack together with every step.

John Morrison.

Gabriel Reyes.

Loke Morrison-Reyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Take a moment and hold your animals close to you. Let them know you love them. I recently lost my 17 year old Yorkie mix I had since I was five. Writing this helped me work through my grief. Unlike Jack, I stayed with her to the very end and held her when she passed. I still have her tags, harness, and etc things in her memory. You bet your ass Jack has Loke's collar wrapped around a belt loop of his pants.
> 
> If you'd like to see Loke: https://twitter.com/bottomboybye/status/979580567556673538 this is the real version of him. He's a PTSD service dog and I am his handler. I included pictures of him as a puppy just to give you some feel-good feelings after coming off of the low of this fic. Feel free to follow me on twitter, as well! I post threads sometimes. 
> 
> If you like my content, why not buy me a ko-fi? https://t.co/5JDxPktC29
> 
> Thanks for the support!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 1am - 8am during a mania in which I couldn't sleep. This was therapeutic for me.
> 
> If you wanna hit me up, you can find me on this r76 server: https://discord.gg/uFU3ckC & my tumblr is purrfectlymeowcy. 
> 
> If you want to support me and my writing, thinking about buying me a Ko-fi? I'm a college kid struggling to buy food so... every little bit helps. https://ko-fi.com/R5R85YDO
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated greatly.


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